


Infection

by snoozingsnuffles



Series: 30 Day Multi-fandom Hurt/Comfort Challenge - November 2019 [9]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 06:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoozingsnuffles/pseuds/snoozingsnuffles
Summary: Hannibal has got them to safety, but Will has a serious infection
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: 30 Day Multi-fandom Hurt/Comfort Challenge - November 2019 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533236
Comments: 1
Kudos: 120





	Infection

Throughout the hallways of the small cabin, the scent of rotten infection hung in the air like storm clouds that wouldn’t shift, and they had only been there a couple of hours.

Will cried out against the wet cloth which scratched against the stiches in his cheek as Hannibal attempted to clean the wound for the fourth time that day. It was a bad cut; the knife had gone straight through Will’s flesh, leaving a bloody, gaping hole in its wake. It would surely leave a nasty scar. To make matters worse, it had contracted an infection from their time in the ocean, and Hannibal only had a very limited supply of anti-biotics that came pre-stocked with the little wooden hut.

“I’m sorry, Will.” Hannibal found himself apologizing as he wiped away the pus that had begun to ooze from in between the stiches. “But it must be cleaned.”

But he wasn’t sure if Will had heard him. It was a nasty infection, one that brought a high fever with it, much like the ones from Will’s struggle with encephalitis, and Will was in pain. Paracetamol could only do so much for a stab wound. 

Hannibal had never felt so helpless. It wasn’t a feeling he enjoyed in the slightest.

Once the wound had stopped oozing and Will had succumbed to a fitful sleep, all Hannibal could do was stay by his side. He hurt – he had a gunshot wound after-all, but it was healing nicely, unlike Will’s injuries. Besides, he was a doctor, and Will needed him.

It had taken years, but finally Will had been able to see the world through Hannibal’s eyes, really _see _it. Hannibal would not let Will die now. Not when he finally had somebody who understood him, wholly.

Will grunted in his sleep as he shifted, his head lolled onto its injured side and Hannibal quickly braced a hand against Will’s temple to stop the wound from touching the grimy white pillow that lay underneath his head. The cabin was a last resort, one of the properties Hannibal was less than happy to own, but Will has just been too sick to carry on with their travels. He had another house, a safer one, a thousand miles away or so in Mexico that they needed to get to, and soon. Hannibal estimated they only had a few more days of safety here, before the FBI caught up to them. If they hadn’t already been presumed dead. But they both knew Jack Crawford: he wasn’t an idiot. He would want to be sure.

Will’s flesh was clammy beneath his palm, and Hannibal reached for the cloth to wipe the other man’s brow. The water had turned tepid, and he knew he needed to get up and change it, but something kept his rooted at Will’s side.

It wasn’t long before Will’s eye began to flutter erratically, and his moans and groans of discomfort grew louder and louder. He must’ve been having a nightmare. Hannibal wondered what horrors lurked beneath Will’s eyelids. Perhaps he was reliving the murder of The Dragon, or perhaps Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Or perhaps the true horror was that now, Will truly enjoyed what he was seeing.

After a while, Hannibal decided to take pity on him and shake him awake. The sick man had begun to thrash violently, and he was in real danger of aggravating other wounds or tugging at stitches. However, sleep had a firm grip on Will and refused to let him resurface.

“Will.” Hannibal’s voice was firm and calm, even as the volume rose. “Will!”

Will finally startled awake with a shuddering gasp. His eyes flickered around the room wildly as he took in his surroundings, his chest rose and fell rapidly as he fought for breath, as if he was still in the ocean.

“It hurts.” He gasped, a shuddering hand reached out to hold his ribs, then his arms, then his cheek. “Hannibal, it hurts.”

His voice would have sounded more frantic if he had the energy. Instead, it was croaked and weak, but the desperation was evident in his words none the less.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Hannibal apologized. He rested a cool, comforting hand on Will’s scorching forehead, and Will seemed to lean into the touch. He reached over to the nightstand and popped a couple of white disks into his palm and held them out to the other man. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger than paracetamol, and I won’t until we’re able to move.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Will reached out for the pills, but pulled back with a shuddering gasp when his ribs protested. Without missing a beat, Hannibal took the pills in his fingers and gently slipped them past Will’s lips. Will took them without complaint and swallowed them dry.

“You must drink.” Hannibal insisted. He lifted the back of Will’s head carefully and placed the rim of a cold glass to his lips. Will drank greedily, only pausing when Hannibal tipped the glass away after a few seconds at regular intervals, so Will wouldn’t make himself sick.

“Are we safe?” Will asked once the glass had been drained. “From Jack? The FBI?”

Hannibal pondered for a few moments. He wondered just how much he should tell Will. He was ill and injured, and any extra and unneeded stress would just make his condition worse. But Hannibal found he didn’t want to lie. Not now. Not after everything they had both been through.

“For now.” He said eventually. “We will move again when you’re well enough.”

“When will that be?” Will’s voice sounded small, strained.

“I don’t know.” Hannibal answered honestly. “I will do my very best to make sure that it is soon.”

Despite the pain, Will looked as if he were close to falling asleep again. “And you?” He asked. “You were hurt too.”

Hannibal gave him an almost fond smile. “I am, but you took the worst of the fall. Don’t worry about me.”

Will hummed and closed his eyes. “Hm. I wish I didn’t.”

Hannibal's smile didn't falter. 


End file.
